


A Few Steps

by Nightwing (Mesha)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mesha/pseuds/Nightwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wayne manor had never felt so vacant on Christmas Eve. Having argued that very morning, Dick resents Bruce immensely while the other tries to come to terms with the storm stirring within himself, unaware of his former sidekick's plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A

In a weird way, the Wayne manor had never been so empty before.

It was only a quarter passed midnight on Christmas Eve and Alfred had excused himself, wishing Bruce a Merry Christmas and advicing him, ever so wisely, to try and steer clear from the bottle of fine Scotch he had kept close all night. Bruce assumed the Wayne butler was visiting a friend or relative, or perhaps he simply wanted to stay away from him.

“You seem aggravated, sir,” Alfred had gently pointed out as he brought the billionaire more ice, standing aside. “Would you, perhaps, prefer I stayed the night and until young Master Dick is back?” he asked, only to receive a stern look and a tightening of Bruce’s lips as he swirled around the contents of his glass. 

“I’m fine, Alfred. Please,” he stated dryly, smacking his lips as he continued to swirl his whiskey and stare it down. “Merry Christmas,” Bruce added after only a moment, looking up at the man just to find him already gone.

Bruce had somehow gotten used to the company and now that they were both gone, the walls and high ceilings seemed to be coming down on him. Staring into the fireplace and hearing the gentle crackling of the wood, Bruce couldn’t help but to think of just how much of a great time would Dick be having just then, resenting every single word he had said that very morning.

“Raya,” the Batman mumbled quietly,unable to help himself as he let out a very bitter chuckle accompanied by an almost instant grimmace. He felt like an ornery drunk, even if he rarely drank at all. “Raya…” he mumbled out again, taking the glass to his lips and having a very healthy swig off the drink. “Raya!” he spat, feeling the intense burn of the alcohol down his throat and on his lips, burning the back of his tongue and the insides of his cheeks.

Dick had been going out with Raya for a while now - nothing serious, said the acrobat, as he spent most of his spare time with the girl. Neither Bruce or Alfred would have been surprised if the girl was willing to spend her every waking moment with Dick, but that was a different story altogether. One that heavily annoyed Bruce. Why couldn’t he read Dick, of all people? 

Even if Bruce liked to play dumb, he knew the answer… the answer he resented and had brought him to that grim office, iluminated by nothing but the lazy fire that danced before him and the almost-out bottle of whiskey on the trolley next to his chair. Even if he tried to pretend he wasn’t aware of it, Bruce had already come to terms with the anxiety Dick caused him every time he left the mansion to see Raya.

Bruce was jealous, and there wasn’t much else to it.

Over the passed couple of years, a very tight bond had been formed between the Batman and his adopted child, a bond that had once started as fraternity and slowly had developed into something Bruce was uncertain of how to describe. Dick was a strong young man, he was independent in every sense of the word and had earned Bruce’s trust as soon as he had walked through the door. Dick had a mind Bruce envied in a way, praising how wise beyond his years the boy seemed to be. When he looked at it that way, Bruce could begin to understand the reason of his current state of mind and, even if a little, he could understand what had set the whole crussade afoot.

With a heavily disgruntled look upon his face as he swirled around what little alcohol was left in his glass, Dick let out an annoyed grunt as Alfred poured some more of the ambar liquid for him.

“It is late, Master Dick. Wouldn’t you rather be in bed, by all means?” asked the butler, offering the blue eyed man a gentle nod as he stepped back. “I could always stay with you, if you so requested,” he offered, feeling rather uncertain about Dick’s plan. It seemed easy enough to just pretend he had gone out and stay at one of the fardest and almost forgotten wings of the mansion, trying to steer clear away from Bruce’s presence and temper. It seemed to be the wisest and overall best option for the three of them - Alfred included.

“I’m fine, go do your thing!” Dick spat, waving the butler off as he took a rather healthy and angry sip from his glass. Settling into the leather couch, folding his arms over his chest and giving the fireplace an apprehensive look as the butler did exactly as told, the boy heard a quiet ‘Merry Christmas, Master Dick’, before the butler left the room.

 _The nerve!_  Dick thought angrily, scowling at the carpet as he recalled the argument that had taken place that very morning. What was it to Bruce if he spent the Eve over at the mansion, at his almost abandoned loft or elsewhere? What was it to the great Batman if he spent the night with Raya, some hooker or on his own? It was bullshit and all the same for Dick now, as he had resorted to telling Bruce he’d go away ‘for a couple’ of days. It was a lie, of course, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Even if it came as a complete surprise to Alfred, Bruce still had no idea that Dick was no longer seeing Raya and had been spending more than a few nights drinking on his own in some nook in the mansion. It was Christmas Eve and Dick was holed up with brandy just as much as Bruce was tucked into his office with a bottle of whiskey. It seemed hopeless and even childish, but Alfred was certain he was doing the right thing as he closed the door and drove off, hoping to be able to stay away from the Wayne mansion for a few days and that, maybe, he’d come back to something better.


	2. B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick recalls the events that lead both Bruce and himself to stranding away from each other on Christmas Eve.

_“It’s Raya, not just- anyone else,” Dick groaned, his nose wrinkled over into a faint snarl as his blue eyes flashed with simmering anger. “What does it matter anyway? What’s the big plan? Some fancy charity event? Staying in here, staring at each other?” he added, folding his arms over his chest as he sank into his seat, pushing around the food on his plate and wondering how he had suddenly lost his appetite._

_It simply didn’t matter what was Bruce’s plan, Dick wanted to stay away from the Wayne manor - he needed to._

_Even if the raven haired boy tried to deny it, he had never truly seen Bruce as a fatherly figure. He had tried, heavens, had he tried! He had pushed himself to the very limit, he had wanted to think of Bruce as his father and did all there could be done to take their relationship down that path, but it was useless. Dick had, in one way or another, always thought of Bruce differently. Matters had gotten worse sometime during the course of the year, and as the holidays approached, Dick had found himself a lot more drawn to the older man, much more than usual, at least. It had become almost unbearable in a way, but the absolute worst about it was how oblivious Bruce was to it. To everything._

_“It’s Raya, precisely. I’m sure she has other… plans, Dick,” Bruce replied in that quiet tone of his, almost whispering - sometimes, Dick was sure he even hissed. “I have reservations to that one Italian place,” he then continued, completely dismissing the look of utter annoyance in the blue eyed man’s face. “You said you wanted to go about a month ago, did you not?” he remarked, trying to keep his stance, to feel on top of the game. To feel like the Batman, for all that it was worth._

_“With her, not you - why would I even want to be with you? You’re always too damn busy anyway, aren’t you? I’m surprised I didn’t have to make an appointment for this crap,” Dick snapped, already flared up as he pushed aside his plate and blindly let his hand search for his glass on the table, his fiery gaze set on the man across from him._

_“When have you ever needed to make appointments, Dick? It’s not like you ever listen to anyone,” Bruce said in an almost tiresome voice, regretting his wording almost instantly. It was unlike him to be so condescending to the younger man, and it took an immediate toll on his sidekick as he batted his hand, unpurposely knocking his glass off the table and spilling water all over the place._

_“ **I** don’t listen to anyone? When do  **you** ever listen to anyone? When do you  **ever** listen to  **me** , Bruce?” Dick asked, his voice peaking and cracking as he stood up and rested both his hands on the table, almost as if trying to steady himself when, in reality, Bruce was certain he was trying to keep himself from lunging forward and attacking him._

_Dick had always allowed his feelings to get the best of him, but it had been much worse as of late. His arguments with Bruce were rougher, more often and simply happened for little to no reason. Bruce had begun to try and control him much more and it simply didn’t sit well with him; it was worsened, too, by the fact that Dick had found himself yearning for the other’s company a lot more and had always met Bruce’s cold stance and all-business facade. Why, just, why? Dick wondered, feeling rather pained by the fact that Bruce felt the need to put up an act even around him._

_However it was, Dick hadn’t been prepared for Bruce’s reaction and was startled by the sound of the older man’s palms slamming down against the mantle, making the tableware rattle and giving him a chill. Bluer than blue eyes widened slightly as the acrobat stared at Bruce, unconsciously shrinking on his spot and balling up his fists lightly as he pressed his lips into a fine line and furrowed his brow in what could only be interpreted as a grimace._

_“I don’t have to listen to you whine about everything, and you’re not going anywhere, that’s the end of it, Dick,” Bruce stated dryly, his cool voice caving down into Dick. These were the moments that made the younger man feel helpless and insignificant, when he realized the Batman’s flat voice jerked up an entire storm within him and he felt completely alone and vulnerable._

_Watching his adoptive father storm out of the room, somewhat managing to preserve his poise, Dick let himself fall back into the chair and pathetically stare down at his half gone breakfast, his anger completely gone for the moment as an impending sense of dread sank into his chest, making his skin crawl and every hair on his body stand on end._

_Bruce was mad at him on Christmas Eve._


End file.
